


Every Storm Runs Out of Rain

by Courtanie



Category: South Park
Genre: Comfort, Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4685510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courtanie/pseuds/Courtanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A large storm is sweeping through South Park, and our main four need to find a way to cope with the terrors outside their windows and get through the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Storm Runs Out of Rain

As the clapping of thunder rippled across the Colorado sky, the town lied awake, staring at their ceilings as their houses shook. A part of them was in awe, knowing that such a ferocious storm was a rarity in their little town; The rest was filled with unbridled annoyance, knowing that being kept awake at three a.m. on a weekday just spelled trouble for their humdrum lives.

Awe and annoyance were the last things on the minds of the youth however, who lied with eyes opened wide, terror reverberating into their bones with every raucous crack. Seconds of light flooding their rooms revealed skin glistened with sweat, pupils relaxed by the dark suddenly shrinking with adrenaline from the blinding force of nature. Little panicked gasps of air surged through under the torrential downpour besieging the asphalt atop their roofs. Little hands clutched their heavy polyester comforters, trying to hide underneath them in stifling heat, just wishing desperately that the storm would pass sooner rather than later. With each window-shaking crash, bodies shivered and whimpers broke through in the nearly silent aftermath.

Atop the sound of rain drenching their town, little heartbeats frantically rang clear, their speed and volume rivaling nature itself.

**...**

Eyes wide with alert, Ike Broflovski took deep breaths, eyes flickering around in blind panic as the rain continued to beat down onto his window. He gulped, reminded vaguely of the car wash his parents had taken him through not three days before. Of course there, rainbow suds showered upon them, drizzling down the windows like tangible dreams as they slipped into consciousness. Here, it was horrifying. Like the water was after him and him alone, beyond prepared to break through the glass and wrap him in an array of droplets until they drug him down and drowned him.

Slowly he guided himself through his breathing, shutting his eyes and gulping, trying to imagine the rain was a usual occurrence. That it was nothing more than a gentle summer shower here to take away the prospect of a drought. It was only here to comfort, here to breathe new life into the world. It was-

He let out a startled yelp, body lurching off the bed in fright as another thunderous sound slammed through the humid air. He let out a long, dismayed cry and threw the covers off of himself. Gasping as light slid into his room quick as a lick. He hopped off his bed and ran through the room, throwing open his door. The dim lighting of the night lights in the hallway berated his eyes for but a moment as he made his way down the corridor, coming to the last room on the right. He knocked quickly before bursting inside, eyes falling on the bed and his older brother lazily lounging with a book in his hands, dimly illuminated by his table side lamp.

"Kyle?" he whimpered.

The boy turned from the sudden distraction and cocked his head, sitting upright and rubbing his eye with the sleeve of his Terrance and Philip pajamas. "Ike? What's wrong?"

"I..." he paused, gulping and stepping into the room.

Kyle blinked before his face fell into a knowing smile. "Scared of the storm?" Ike nodded briskly and his brother snorted. "Come in," he waved him forward.

Ike sighed in relief, quickly shutting the door and rushing over to his bed. He clumsily clambered up beside him, looking at him in silence, body tremoring. "Can you sleep?" he whispered.

Kyle shook his head, tossing his book onto the nightstand. "No, too noisy. We should probably try though. We have school in three hours," he rolled his eyes. "Get the light will ya?"

"Uh..." Ike looked around nervously.

The redhead paused before waving off his own suggestion, "Never mind. The light's fine. C'mon, let's try to sleep," he said with a small yawn. He grabbed his comforter and threw it over both of their legs, relinquishing one of his pillows to Ike's side as they nestled down into the covers together.

Ike took a deep breath, nuzzling closer into Kyle's side. The redhead glanced at him as the younger let his eyes slip shut and smiled, letting his arm go down under Ike's pillow. Another flash of lightening blew through the room and Ike yelped, fingers clutching Kyle's pajamas. Kyle awkwardly maneuvered his arm to pat Ike's back. "It's just static and heat, Ike. It's okay," he assured him, closing his eyes.

"Scary," he huffed, digging his face into Kyle's side and taking a long breath of his brother, smelling the mint soap from his shower and the tinge of apple pie that he'd helped their mom bake earlier that day.

"It's not so scary," he said softly. "It's nothing but nature doing what it does. It'll pass and you'll forget about it before you know it."

Ike pulled from his brother's side, staring at the older in awe. He seemed so nonchalant about the absolute Hell that was going on right outside his window. As though he were blissfully unaware. "How do you not get scared?" he asked softly.

A small smirk crawled up Kyle's lips. "I turn into a nerd," he answered honestly.

"Huh?" he quirked his brow.

He creaked open his eye and shrugged before shutting off his vision again and settling into the bed. "I think about math equations. Or geography. Or history. That shit's so boring nothing scares me. A clown could come at me with a knife and I'd be so lost in the bullshit of school I wouldn't even notice."

Ike laughed, shaking his head and pushing himself back against the boy, sneaking his arm over his waist and clinging onto him tightly. His heart fluttered slightly in relief at Kyle being able to dispel the tension of the air. Another crack of thunder rushed through and he shivered, feeling Kyle trying to pat his back again. "What're you thinking about now?" he asked, muffled in the fabric of his PJ's.

"Presidents," he yawned. "Trying to name them in order."

Ike took a deep breath, falling prey to the warmth of his brother and the smell of apples and cinnamon overflowing his nostrils. "Can you...name them out loud?" he asked softly, stifling a long yawn and feeling his eyelids flutter.

Kyle nodded slowly to himself, holding onto Ike tighter. "Washington...Adams...Jefferson..." The Broflovski boys stayed clasped around one another and let the sound of the torrent drown in Kyle's soft voice, letting it lead them both on through the long night together.

**...**

Stan Marsh sat up in bed at another flash of lightening, biting his lip and groaning. He hated storms. He hated them with a burning passion. Kyle tried to explain to him what made them happen long ago, but the science didn't matter. They were just fucking scary.

He traced a finger along the stitching of his Broncos comforter, gulping as he watched the rain continuing to crash into his window, each hit of a drop seeming to make the pane tremble. He wondered vaguely how much water it would take for them to break through and flood his room, but tried quickly to distract himself. He wasn't much for trying to keep terrifying thoughts in his mind.

"Jesus Christ, just stop," he whined, grabbing his pillow and throwing it over his face, curling into himself as rumbles continued to rock the sky. He shuddered and looked out his window once again, seeing the tree branch right by the pane rocking violently in the wind. His eyes widened, mind going into over-creative paranoia. He could just see a 'Final Destination' style death if that branch were to break and come flying through his window. It'd be in his obituary that he was the victim of circumstance, that nature had taken a vendetta against him, that he was wearing pajamas that were too big for him. He bit his lip, twisting himself and hopping out of bed, hurrying out of his room to next door.

He rapped on the door quickly and gulped. "Shelly?" he called out softly.

"Go away, Turd," her voice broke through, obviously exhausted and unwilling to come close to dealing with her little brother.

"Shelly, please," he begged. "There's a branch and...a-and the wind and-"

"I said go _away_!" she bit.

"Please?" he whimpered, yelping at more thunder bursting in the air.

He could hear her sigh angrily. "The hell do you want _me_ to do about it?!" she demanded.

He slowly opened her door, finding her lying in bed glaring at him. He gulped. "I-I...I don't know," he said honestly, the back part of his mind wondering what the fuck he was even doing. His older sister wasn't exactly his best friend, but Randy and Sharon never let him in their room at night, so he was pretty low on options. He lingered awkwardly in the doorway, hall lights gleaming off of Shelly's headgear. "Can I stay here?" he whispered.

She rolled her eyes. "Aren't you a little _old_ to get scared of rain, Turd?"

He shrugged, sniffling a bit. "They're scary," he muttered to himself, looking down at the floor. They both yelped as the lights suddenly went off, their eyes trying desperately to adjust to the sudden influx of nothingness.

" _Fine._ " She conceded. "But you better not mess up my stuff," she huffed. Stan's eyes brightened and he hurried over, climbing into Shelly's bed, his nose scrunching at the smell of over-doused perfume lingering in the sheets. He didn't let it defer him, however, quickly sliding down into the bed, being sure to keep a good bit a distance between himself and his sister.

"Thanks, Shelly," he said softly.

She scoffed, "Whatever. Don't make a habit of this, Turd. I just want to sleep."

"Okay," he whispered, reaching up and clutching around her pillow, diving his head into it and taking a deep breath. Shelly watched through the darkness, raising her brow at how tightly Stan was holding onto her pillow, the way the bed was shaking just slightly with his little tremors. She hadn't seen Stan actually scared of something in a good while, always trying to be 'tough' in front of his friends. Without them around though, he was nothing but a helpless little nine year old.

She sighed, reaching behind her onto a shelf and grabbing something before shoving it into Stan's arm. The boy opened his eyes, grasping the item and cocking his head. "What's this?" he asked, feeling different fabric appendages.

"One of my bears," she muttered. "So you don't fuck up my pillows clinging onto it like a stupid Turd."

Stan was silent for a moment before his face broke into a small smile that he hid behind the bear's head, digging his nose down between its ears and taking a deep, calming breath. "Thanks, Shelly," he whispered.

"Whatever. Go to sleep, Turd," she muttered, shutting her eyes and nestling down into her pillow. Stan clung onto her bear tighter, relief flowing through him from the simple gesture. Not another word passed between the both of them, a good foot of distance lying between them. But they knew the other was there, as they always were, and that was good enough for now.

_**...** _

Growing up poor meant a lot of things; It meant you got used to going without food now and then. You grew accustomed to dealing without heat or electricity. So when the lights flickered off in the McCormick homestead, Kenny did nothing more than roll his eyes in annoyance, tossing and turning on his broken mattress trying to get some sleep. He groaned, shoving his pillow down over his head and shaking it tiredly. The noise was driving him goddamn crazy. He'd barely gotten any sleep the night before, too busy staying up talking to Stan and Kyle about the new Playstation game they were going to save up to get together. Two nights of this was not bearing well for him.

His ears perked at a sound breaking through the rain outside. He raised his head from the pillow, messy blonde locks falling every which way. He blinked, tilting his head slightly, making out the clear sound of quiet crying coming through the wall. His heart hitched and he jumped out of bed, falling over himself and quickly getting back to his feet. He ran out of his room to the one next door, slowing himself and quietly pushing the door open, poking his head inside. "Kar?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him with wide, tear-filled eyes shining in the darkness of the room. "Kenny..." she whined, rubbing her eyes and sniffling.

"Hey, hey," he cooed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "It's okay, Karen. It's just a storm."

"But it's...so...loud...a-and..." she stopped, sobbing again and hiding her face in her princess doll.

Kenny's face fell sympathetically and he slowly trudged over to her bed, sitting down beside her and petting her hair lovingly. "It's okay," he repeated. "Storms..." he paused, looking up thoughtfully. "They're just angels fighting," he shrugged casually.

"H-huh?" she sniffled, looking at him confusedly.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Angels fight, ya know. They fight over who gets to sit next to God at the dinner table," he wiggled his fingers. "Whenever there's a new angel, they have to fight for the right to do so, and the thunder is them yelling that it's their turn. And the lightening is when they hit each other."

She cocked her brow, the tears momentarily stopped. "Angels fight?" she asked.

He nodded, "All the time. Angels were human once, weren't they?" he raised his brow.

"Y-yeah..." she nodded back.

"And humans fight, don't we?" he shrugged, moving over and putting his arm around her shoulders. "Angels aren't perfect. But storms are how we know they're real," he assured her.

She pouted. "Well why is this angel fighting for so long?"

"He must _really_ want to sit next to God. Can't blame him, I think tonight is taco night and God _always_ gets the best nachos first," he smiled cheekily. She sniffled, wiping at her eyes and laughing a little bit. "Feel better?" he asked.

She nodded, "A little," she said timidly. "I just wish it would stop."

"The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner it goes away," he promised. "C'mon, let's tuck ya in."

She bit her lip shyly. "Kenny...can you..." she trailed off.

Kenny smiled, ruffling her hair. "Want me to stay with ya?" She nodded with a grateful smile and he gave her a wink. "No prob, Kar-bear. C'mon," he moved her a bit and pulled the sheets over the both of them. Karen wrapped around him with her doll between the both of them and nuzzled against his chest.

"Thank you, Kenny," she whispered, ignoring the staunch air wafting around the two of them of Pabst and cigarettes. It always seemed to intensify at night, but Kenny somehow always made it seems as though it were as comforting as fresh baked cookies. A part of her couldn't help but silently thank the storm, always willing and eager to spend more time with her loving older brother.

He smiled adoringly, stroking her greasy brown hair as he watched the rain continuing to parade upon the town. "No problem," he whispered. "Get some sleep." She nodded, curling tighter around him. They could both hear the sound of their leaking roof letting water slip into the kitchen, dripping steadily into an array of rusted pots they had all scattered about earlier that night. But it was a peaceful rhythm they could find themselves enjoying as they remained clutched together for warmth; Just another staple in their less-than-ideal home life.

**...**

Tossing and turning in his bed, Eric Cartman curled into himself, clasping his hands over his ears in a pathetic attempt to stop the barrage of noise washing over him. He groaned, rolling around his bed with his burning eyes narrowed into a glare at the clock beaming a bright '3:18'.

"Screw this," he muttered, hopping out of bed and tromping out of his room. He sighed, heading down the stairs and into the kitchen, ripping open his freezer and stroking his chin as he surveyed his options. He grabbed a box of Pizza Rolls, heading over towards the microwave and lazily scanning over the box's instructions. The microwave light flickered and he looked up, blinking. All lights suddenly snapped off and he groaned. "This is some bullshit," he whined. "Why do you hate me, God?" he asked.

He flinched at a loud crack of thunder and sighed, moving back to the freezer and throwing the box back inside. "Poopsy-kins!" his mother's voice appeared.

"What, Mother?" he asked tiredly.

"It's past your bedtime, Sweetie," she said gently.

"I can't sleep because of this gay-ass storm," he muttered.

She paused, leaning down and patting his head lovingly. "Why don't you head upstairs and I'll find something to help you, hm?"

Cartman glanced at her suspiciously. "You're not going to force-feed me cold medicine, are you?"

She looked taken aback, blinking. "Goodness, Eric, of course not!"

"Just making sure," he said slowly. He looked from the burnt out lights to her and sighed. "Yeah, fine. I'll go back."

"I'll be up in a few minutes, Sweetie," she said lovingly. He 'hmphed' and blindly fumbled around the dark, reaching under the sink and grabbing a flashlight, tossing one to his mom and heading back up into his room. He settled down into his pillows again, placing the flashlight on the stand facing the wall. The dim lighting calmed him slightly, used to his Wellington Bear nightlight glowing throughout the night. He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. No sleep, no food, no quiet...This was just not turning out to be his night.

He looked over at his door popping back open a few minutes later, seeing his mom come in with a mug. "Hot cocoa," she said lovingly, handing him the mug. "I know it calms you down."

"Erm, thanks, Mom," he blushed, taking a long sip and smiling to himself. She put vanilla and a dash of cinnamon in it, just how he loved it. He could practically feel himself melting into the pillows with the warmth flooding through him. Stilted memories of illnesses and other worrisome nights with Liane bringing him such a delicacy passed through his weary mind. A hand wrapped in his hair and slowly rubbed his head, a loving gesture that Liane had perfected over the years.

"Do you feel a little better, Poopsy-kins?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Mehm."

She smiled, knowing from his tone that he was feeling back to his relaxed self. "Do you want anything else? I can't make you anything in the microwave, but-"

"No," he interrupted, putting his mug on the nightstand and moving down under the covers, staring up at his mother with tired brown eyes. "Can...can you just...stay here...for awhile?" he winced.

Her face grew into a wider, adoring smile and she nodded. "Of course, Eric. Do you want a story?"

He shook his head, grabbing her wrist and gently moving it back into his hair, sighing contentedly as she began scratching through the brown locks once again. "No...I just...want you here," he murmured, snuggling down into his pillow. He blinked as he felt a familiar form pressed against him, looking to see Clyde-Frog in his mother's free hand. He smiled, grabbing him and holding him tightly against his chest, sighing again at the scent of chocolate chip cookies that seemed to follow his mother wherever she went intoxicating the room.

Liane began softly humming, sitting herself on the bed and staring out the window as she leaned against the headboard as her hand continued to rustle through her son's hair. She was reminded suddenly of when he was nothing but a baby, holding him throughout a storm the entire night as he cried and cried, only calmed when she finally began to hum. Eric smiled at the familiar sound, hiding the expression under Clyde-Frog and letting the warmth and familiarity of the moment wrap around the both of them like a blanket. The sounds and lights couldn't bother the small family, couldn't pull apart something that, to the two of them, was just how things had always been, and how they always should be.

**...**

Standing at the bus stop the next day, Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman surveyed the damage around the town, hats pulled down just so for the shadows to conceal the large bags hiding under their eyes.

"Doesn't look too bad," Kenny commented through his heavy hood.

"Yeah," Kyle nodded. "Few trees and power lines, but other than that I think everything was given the all-clear."

Cartman scoffed, taking a bite of a granola bar and glancing around. "Well it was just a little pussy-ass storm. Nothing to get excited about," he grumbled.

"Right," Stan agreed. "Everyone's acting like it was such a big fucking deal," he rolled his eyes. "I mean, boo fuckin' hoo it thundered and lightninged a little bit," he wiggled his fingers. "I slept like a goddamn baby."

"Same here," Cartman concurred, taking a loud, crunching bite out of his breakfast.

Kyle shrugged casually, crossing his arms, "You know how people tend to sensationalize. They make _everything_ into a much bigger deal than it is."

Kenny made a small noise of agreement. "Yeah. Bunch of pussies whining over a little rain. If it was such a big deal, we wouldn't be forced to go back to school," he rolled his eyes.

"Totally," the other three nodded in agreement. Each of them stole glances at one another before letting their vision fall onto the muddied ground as they waited for the bus to come along to take them about their day. Behind each feigned discontent, however, each of them couldn't help but indulge in a small, contented smile as a grayed cloud came about, beginning to patter the ground with rain once more.


End file.
